ad for you, Sandy," she said, giving me her hand, as I
concluded. "Your village friends would probably advise you to hoard the
money as so much towards a forge; while others, less judicious than your
new friend, would say, 'Give up your trade, and support yourself by your
brain'; but I say, support yourself by your forge, and let what surplus
power you have be expended on your mind."

And here let me hold the thread of my story a moment, to express my
sense of the wisdom of Miss Darry's advice. It would be well, perhaps,
if more men, when striving to elevate their condition, should still rely
upon the occupation to which they have been trained, as a stepping-stone
to something better. Now and then comes an exceptional character, a
David Grey, who must follow the bent of his genius, and listen so
intently to the melody to which his soul is set that the coarser sounds
of daily toil are dumb for him; but usually the Elihu Burritt who
strikes hard blows with hands and brain alike is the man to achieve
success.

"Your friend may be worth far more to you than his money," continued
Miss Darry, thoughtfully. "He can do much more for you than I, if he
only will."

"Do you know him?" I exclaimed. "Tell me who he is."

"A tall, dark-eyed gentleman, on a magnificent horse," she replied,
playfully. "I shall know him, Sandy, from your description, if I meet
him."

And she placed my crayon-study before me, changing so entirely from
confidential friend to teacher, that I had no resource but to relapse
into my customary shyness.

After the lesson, we consulted as to the purchases to which my money had
best be applied. She offered to buy the books I needed in the city, to
which she was going soon for a visit, but she insisted on supplying me
with drawing-materials as before. Our good-bye was said more cordially
than usual, and I drew on my overcoat and closed the door with the
comfortable feeling that my welfare was becoming a matter of interest to
others besides myself.

CHAPTER IV.

The man who drove over from the hillside with Miss Darry was always
waiting in the sleigh when I went out from my lesson. To-night, however,
he was not to be seen. Supposing he had merely stopped for one more
glass than usual at the tavern, I walked down the street, but, finding
that he did not appear, and disliking to leave Miss Darry alone in the
school-house, so late in the evening, I resolved, as I approached the
turn which led into Main St